strong hands
hesitate.
soft reverence,
gentle on my flesh,
satisfied that this warm giving
has spread itself before them...

in darkness
only whispers can be seen.
our intimate soft whispers
that make the night air blush.
i hear Your hands creep softly on my skin
telling me of misty pasts
of laughter in the sun,
gliding over goosebumps formed
from urgent burning breaths...

sure hands
they cup my breasts,
puckered nipples
rubbed alive by Your rough thumbs.
sighs and swirling images
imprint my covered eyes.

You kneel behind
to worship at the altar of my sex.
steadily, deliberately,
You press my pliant head down with Your hand,
then pause...
we breathe the stillness of the moment
that we both understand.
your hardened fingers flow
down the sweet curve of my back.
toes curl at your honest touch.

my hips are held, sacred in your palms.
the moment lives
and you, my love slide slowly deep inside.
i clench my teeth,
all giving has its necessary pain,
purchased dear when
two creations crash
into each others truths.

then the tug -
sweet saline release,
an overflow of fertile joy,
embedded in my being.
im seared by the liquid
of your feral frantic lust.
our cries tumble out and
tangle with our limbs.

....smooth quietitude.
the silence only holds
the labour of our lungs.
we hold each other,
and a secret
as old as
enigmatic time